It Is The Knife That Cuts Us
by Jokerfest
Summary: HIATUS UNTIL FURTHER NOTICE: Harleen Quinn finds herself in love with the Joker,but he only has a certain Bat on his mind. The Batman, has fallen far from grace and wonders if he can still save Gotham.
1. Prologue: The Need to Smile Again

I do not own any of the Batman peoples. They belong to Chris Nolan, Dc Comics...those people. I just happen to find them all fascinating.

It had been too long since he had played a game. It had been too long since he had cut and sliced his way to a good time. He enjoyed it all, the comforting scene that chaos brought him. This cell changed all that, made it go away, disappear completely. He wanted complete and naked abandon from his fellow man, wanted people to be set free, lose their minds, live a little. Over these things there was one thing that he wanted, one pleasure that he missed above all others; more time with the Batman.

Batman had changed everything in this silly little city. He had made fear something tangible. He made it more than Russian mob bosses, more than illegal trafficking of weapons and drugs. He had made it so much more to this tiny manipulative little city and he wanted more of this fear. He found that the longer he remained in his cell the more...average and cooperative he became. He couldn't have that. Not at all, not while there was so much more...pleasure he could choke out of Gotham.

He knew that opportunity always knocked when least expected, that surprise parties were always more fun, but he couldn't help it if he offered opportunity a little "push" in the right direction. He couldn't help it that opportunity was a beautiful blonde with legs that stretched for miles. Beneath her calm facade he saw potential for...insanity.


	2. Chapter 1: Psych!

I do not own any of these DC Comic characters or their movie counterparts. They belong solely to their respective companies, namely DC Comics and Chris Nolan the spectacular director. I'm just the writer.

This leggy blonde that had entered his room could only be described as gorgeous. She had an even tan complexion, that spoke of the pride she took in herself. Her honey blonde hair practically caressed her beautifully molded shoulders and hung at her back. Joker found that what interested him most about her was the obvious interest she held in him. He could tell by the way her sky colored eyes lit on his marred features and eventually his eyes that she wanted to know what made him tick.

He smiled, accentuating the scars that marred his otherwise perfect features. 'Let's play.'

"I can…tell you're new around here."

"Yes, I'm your new psychiatrist Dr. Quinzel," she said as she watched two men cart in a table and chair.

Joker waited until the two staff members exited before studying her more lasciviously. Finally after he was certain that he had stared at her for an uncomfortable amount of time he decided it was time to roll the dice.

"Wow, sounds…uh…well no. It doesn't sound impressive to me at all. What's your first name?"

"Harleen."

The Joker guffawed loudly at the obvious joke her name was. Her parents were bastards, he stopped laughing.

"Here to cure me…hehehe…Haarrllleeeen," he queried as he hung his head," come to bring me out of my 'so to speak' happy place?"

"I suppose I am. They assure me that you are incurable, but I have yet to see that, and so I am here to try."

"You know…it is aaalllways better to listen to your um…betters. Listen here doll face I have no intention of going back, rewinding the clock…NO," he barked at her as he strained against his ties. He smirked inside, she hadn't flinched. This broad was sturdier than she looked.

Good. He had always loved a challenge.

"So…uhhh…what are you going to try first?"

"Why Joker?"

He stared at her his mouth downcast and twitching slightly. He had hoped that despite her blonde hair she would be slightly less vapid than her forebears. He had hoped in vain, if he had had his knife he could make her sing a much more exciting tune, but for now...

"Joker is my...uhh...name. You know that right? In that little...file...yeah, the little _file_ they give you don't they mention that," he asked as he shook his head in a 'fucking idiot' manner.

"I know what the police believe your alias to mean, but what does it mean to you? This is a basic question. Alright then in my evaluation I could just state that you need to be more heavily drugged."

He smiled broadly making sure to smile wide enough that each respective incisor could make themselves known.

"Aha, right, well no need to play rough Harley. Let's see...why Joker? Well...gee now that I think of it...BECAUSE I WANTED IT TO BE YOU STUPID BITCH," he barked loudly.

He saw it, it was small, but it was a flinch all the same. He laughed shrilly, wriggling in his chair happily. It was about time the broad heated up a little. Now to _really _fuck with her.

He let his body slump as if suddenly drained. He wanted to look weak for her, make her feel sorry for him. Was that how this game would be played? He wasn't sure. He laid down a card.

"No, didn't...I didn't mean **that**. I apologize...you're not a bitch," he grinned and then just as quickly frowned," my father. You see, my father," he glanced upwards trying to think of something that seemed just out of reach.

"Yes? Your father?"

Ha! He knew the broad would bite. He hadn't had this much fun since he had bit off one of the attendant's ears.

"My father was a **cold, cold** man. Didn't play fair, liked to **hit** people. My mother...he liked to hit her...a lot. I'm **not** the bad guy I just...I really just want to have fun. Daddy wouldn't let me. Said I was weak...said that my mother...was too** weak**. Turns out he was right...with her. Buuut noooot me...no ,no, I showed him. **I am quite capable**." Joker glanced up at her, letting her know just what he was capable of. He saw it, faint trace of fear underlied by something else. He usually saw emotions under the blade of a knife, but he knew that in here he would have to cut and carve with different tools.

"What are you capable of," she asked her tone of voice becoming something more primal.

"Do you reaaallly wanna know?"

"Yes. What is the Joker capable of?"

"Ah ah ahhhh...you come closer...and, uhh...maybe I tell you. Kind of hard to talk with this table in between you and **me**. HERE NOW HARLEY!"

Again he felt that shiver of fear but he could see her pushing it aside, ignoring what her body was trying to tell her. She rose from her chair and moved closer to him. He found that he liked the way she smelled, wondered if she sprayed on Bitch in Heat before she came to work. He smirked at her as she came close enough to hear him whisper: "I'm capable of...," he jerked around in the chair a bit and leaned down to her ear, "I make people animals Harley...**I show them how to beee animals**."

He felt the shiver, heard the sigh, it felt almost arousing. He had missed playing games. He decided that the blond would do nicely.

Realizing what she was doing she coughed awkwardly and stood up.

"Yes, I think that will conclude our session for today."

"Yes, hehehe, good session Dr. Q."

She did not respond to his poking fun at her but instead let herself out.

Perhaps she was not as smart as Batman, but for now she stimulated enough nerve endings to save him from having a most miserable time.

He chuckled...he laughed...he shrieked peals of hysterical laughter.

He just loved new toys.


	3. Chapter 2: Insane Gratification

I do not own any of the DC comic characters. They belong to the Chris Nolan crew and the DC comic peoples. I'm just the writer.

He had been…intriguing. She took off her light sweater and rested it against the sofa. She simply didn't feel much like being organized today which she knew was unusual. After her meeting with the Joker she had simply felt alive which is something that a young psychologist usually doesn't feel, or an older one for that matter. Before she was assigned to Joker's peculiar case she had been working with other criminally insane patients at Arkham. All of them were boring to her, classic text book cases that were easily solved. When she had been presented Joker's case file she had immediately become infatuated.

Not infatuated, as in love, but in the sense that she had something that intrigued her, really piqued her interest. As far as the paperwork had went there was no record of him anywhere. He was a phantom that had immediately set to destroying Gotham, there was nothing before the destruction, nothing before chaos. As to the way he orchestrated his attacks, it was genius. Though he claimed to love chaos, though he claimed no organization save for the very next step there **had **to be some planning involved.

Harleen took off her white tennis shoes and laid them in her closet. The commute to Arkham always left her feeling a little drained and so she decided bath and bed, nothing in between. She stripped as she went along all the time thinking of the strange man she had met today. He lived purely on instinct and only in the moment, so unlike her. She had studied her ass off to be where she was, to live as well as she did.

She shivered, remembering those eyes. They had practically ate her alive, and the way he spoke. His pitch changed so often, sometimes high and almost nervous. Other times, he presented a more guttural tone, a tone of voice that could either tease someone into bed or make them cry in fear. She found that she liked the way he spoke. She thought of the way he looked in general. The doctors of course did not allow for his infamous face make up to remain and so she had gotten to see the man not the clown.

He had been beautiful.

Even with the scars that skimmed upwards from his lips he still possessed a face that most would consider angelic, which was ironic considering what he was being locked away for. He had somewhat thin brushstrokes for eyebrows, a very straight but somewhat cute nose. His lips, however, defined him. They were extremely kissable lips she decided upon further thinking. They were wide but plump and though both ends of his mouth were scarred, without the clown makeup one usually it took nothing away from the attractive smile that sometimes presented itself. The scars in question she noticed were high and ended just below his altogether perfect cheekbones. They were jagged, crooked and appeared to have been stitched up by a shaky hand. He had probably done them himself, and she wondered how strong a man must be to sew his own face.

She remembered in the file that he always had a different story for his scars. When he had been first brought to Arkham he told one of the attendants that he had done the cutting himself. The attendant reported that the Joker had done it because he had wanted "to smile more". She shook away the thoughts of the Joker and continued her disrobing in the bathroom. Finally she was down to only skin alone and completely disarmed. This was the only time of her day when she could be herself. During the day she was a cold psychiatrist that mentally dissected her patients. She tried to cure them, but many that had checked into Arkham did not reemerge in society. If she wasn't at work she was in Gotham City Library looking up ways to possibly eradicate insanity. She had always been drawn to the insane. The way they found release, freedom from all human attachments, it fascinated her. She wanted to know what broke a human being, what pushed them over the edge, what was it like to let go? In the Joker she saw the perfect kind of insanity. He still had a grasp on all motor functions, all the higher intelligence a human being held, but at the same time he lived off pure instinct, swinging from emotion to emotion like a rhythmless pendulum. He lived as an animal but walked as a man.

She turned on the shower and kept her hands under the water until she found it had reached her desired temperature. Stepping inside she felt that first shiver, the little shiver as your body registers a hotter temperature. It felt almost like the shiver she had felt when Joker had whispered in her ear.

'**beee animals**'

She shivered again, but this time it was from something else entirely. She knew that what she was feeling right now was distasteful, but she couldn't help herself. She wanted to know what it would like to be possessed by the Joker. A mind such as his broken, shattered, and remolded, must be fascinating thing to be near. His skin she had remembered had been tan, his body, even in the straight jacket, showed off taut muscle. He was lithe and tall, and reminded her of a lazy jungle cat. Sly and slow, but able to strike quickly and with a deadly accuracy.

Water rippled and pooled down her collarbone between and over her breasts down her back, between her legs, and she knew she wanted more. She touched herself tentatively. A shock of pleasure and a sure sense of wrongness rippled through her. Still, she wanted this. She used one arm and braced herself against the tiles as she inserted a finger into herself. She sighed deeply thinking of a deep guttural voice. She imagined the owner of the voice trailing a rough pink tongue against her neck as he plunged two more fingers into her. She moaned loudly pressing her hand even more tightly against the tile. His fingers would be long, long enough to touch her…oh! She cried out loudly struggling not to fall. She let him struggle to fit in a fourth finger, she knew that he wanted to hurt her, make her scream. A fourth finger jammed into her tightly and tears coursed down her face. It felt good but at the same time it stung sharply, she had never tried this. She rocked into his hand harder letting him pump her quickly to her finish. He cackled maniacally as she mewled, growled, and cried. He chuckled in his 'fuck you' guttural voice, and finally the whole fist was in her. Unable to take so much she came into his hand shouting his name finally letting herself sink into the bathtub. She pulled her fingers out and ran them under the shower. Something was happening to her.

Something was coming loose.

She frowned softly and tilted her head. Perhaps, she would understand what was going on tomorrow.


	4. Chapter 3: Walk In Another's Sin

I do not own the city Gotham nor its inhabitants. They belong to the DC Comic people and the mastermind Christopher Nolan.

There were two men in this one tragic individual. Bruce and Batman both suffered after the recent events that had befallen Gotham under their watch. Yes, the Joker had been caught, but at what cost? So many irreplaceable damage had been done, so many lives lost. Batman was only one and before it had been enough, but now it seemed that there was no way he could challenge villains alone. He considered simply being Bruce and only Bruce. He considered putting away the cowl, the weapons, and simply settle down. He thought of this, but then his thoughts would always drift back to that madman, Joker. The man had without even a hint of effort nearly toppled all the work he had accomplished over the past year. In doing so, he had taken away all the things that he had loved, he had taken away Rachel.

He remembered what he was supposed to be doing at the time, organizing a relief donation mixer for those who had suffered severe losses during Joker's brutal attacks or could not receive proper medical care now that the city's largest hospital Gotham General had been reduced to rubble. Today he was to be Bruce Wayne, one of the world's most elegant and rich playboys. He was to be somewhat of a fool but a good natured one, and he was to be somewhat bubbly in demeanor. As he paced his bedroom he couldn't help but scoff at the idea of pretending when he should really be spending time hunting down criminals. There were times when he wondered who he was, who was the pretender in this body? Was Batman the real person, the true owner? Or was it Bruce, vapid bachelor of Gotham? He ran his fingers through his hair trying to ease the tension in himself.

Just breathe.

He inhaled deeply and held his breath for a few moments before releasing. He inhaled again letting his hand fall to his side. He took another breath and then tried a Bruce Wayne grin. The bubbly persona fell on him instantly and he decided he would go with the tailor made suit that cost more than one his private jets.

The mixer was held in his penthouse and it was going splendidly. He was pleased that many of Gotham's more well off citizens were so eager to help the less fortunate. He briefly wondered what the Joker would think if he were here to see how gracious and kind the upper class Gothamites were being. He shook his head a little attempting to clear his head of the clown faced devil, there were other matters that had to be dealt with and Batman had no place here.

"Hello, everyone as you may already know this mixer is for the benefit of those that have suffered under recent events. When I say events I mean the tragedy that the mad man Joker caused , the loss of our White Knight Harvey Dent, and my dearest friend Rachel Dawes. Donating today could change lives for the better. It can help ease the pain of loss and help do the good work that Harvey had set out to do. To the White Knight," Bruce said solemnly as he raised his glass. The guests raised their glasses as well.

"Those were very touching words, Master Bruce," Alfred said approvingly as dusk proceeded to wash over Gotham.

"I meant every word. Alfred?"

"Yes, Master Bruce?"

"Being Batman, is that what the city needs right now? After taking the blame for those murders that Harvey…well it almost seems as if I should wait."

"I'm afraid not sir. This is the time when you can do the most good. Right now the scum of Gotham are still in fear, and you can keep it that way."

"You mean since they think I killed the mob boss and the dirty cop."

"Being Batman means taking the weakness of your opponent and making it your strength," Alfred encouraged as he laid a hand on one of Bruce's broad shoulders, "being Batman means that you have to be relentless."

Once again as he sat in that chair and looked out over his city Bruce wondered where his path would lead him. After a few moments Bruce stood up. "I guess that means I have to get dressed then."

"S'pose it does."

Falling had now become a sensation that emitted no fear. Falling is simply a means of travel from one locale to the next. Falling had become something that Batman could do at any moment, but after each fall he knew he was sure to rise. Patrolling the streets was now something that he did out of habit. After the Joker it seemed no one was really vying for that position unless they wanted to be the focus of Batman's wrath. As he leapt from building to building he listened to the police communication lines. Even they had noticed the sudden disappearance of the less than straight-and-narrow citizens. Batman scoped the area below and noticed a scuffle between three young men. He swooped down and approached the scene.

It appeared to be a fight over drug money. One man had said the other had stolen it the other claimed to be the victim in the whole ordeal. The larger of the three was already reaching for his pistol deciding that whomever he shot deserved it. A batarang sliced open his hand causing him to drop the gun and kneel over his now bleeding palm. Seeming to seep from the shadows Batman made his presence known. The three young men scrambled to get away. Batman delivered a blow to the back of one's head knocking him unconscious. The one young man with the gun took a few shots but they made no difference to the Kevlar that made up Batman's armor. Batman delivered a blow across the man's face sending him to the ground. Finally after dispatching the first two Batman chased down the other one. This one seemed to have some speed on him and so from one of his various weapons Batman found one that shot out ties which, with careful aim, wrapped tightly around the young man's ankles. The man fell over awkwardly on his shoulder making him cry out in pain. Batman stalked over to him, looking even more like a demon from hell.

The man, Batman noticed, as he approached was a boy. He could be no more than eighteen, no more than one hundred and twenty pounds. The boy was struggling to crawl away, furiously wriggling to get free. Batman flipped him over with e boot and pressed down on his chest. The boy struggled to get the boot off his chest.

"Please, don't kill me! God, no," he screamed hysterically.

The boy could not see it, but the Batman had flinched. The pure terror that this boy was feeling was not simply the fear of being incarcerated. It was the unflagging fear of someone who believes they are seeing death. That was his symbol now, death. He was not certain that he could ever reclaim his title of unwavering justice.

He removed the boot.

"Who took the money, where are the drugs," he growled in a voice that seemed to be forced past a throat edged in stone and glass.

"Romy, took the money. He was playin' Jace the whole time. Romy- Romy's the one. Now-now please! Let me go!"

The Batman crouched down, his face directly above the young boy's. "I will not kill you or anyone else, never again."

When the police arrived on the scene there were only the three boys tied side, by side by side. There was a note pinned to the wall with a batarang it read simply:

_-I am paying for it. I will pay for it all._

The officer that took the note sighed as he pocketed it in a baggie for evidence. He knew that all of this was a game, a ruse, but he would not renege on his word. He would continue to chase the Batman, though his heart would never be in the chasing. He would continue to know the man was innocent of all crimes, but this is not what hurt the most.

What was killing him was the fact that the bastard who had done all this damage wasn't being punished as he deserved.

Gotham's finest hero, hunted, only Gotham would allow this to happen.


	5. Chapter 5: Tied Down

Joker studied Harleen as avidly as she did him

Joker studied Harleen as avidly as she did him. However, whereas Joker was an avid player, Harley was a novice dipping her toes into water that was leagues too deep for her. Harleen anticipated someone of high intelligence, but she did not see that she was being manipulated. Joker treated her the way a cruel child would treat butterflies. He pulled her wings off and made it so that she would never fly again.

After a few weeks it was obvious that Harleen was coming apart at the seams. She seemed to quiver whenever near the Joker, like a divining rod. She lost the prim and proper voice that befit the psychiatrists of Arkham. Joker loved the new accent and told her so as he fucked her into the wall. He told her lots of things and she listened.

She was his Harley-girl after all.

It was during the second week that he began to see his handiwork truly unfold. She had worn her hair down, and was wearing a read blouse with black slacks. She sat down in the chair that was provided for her and crossed long slim legs. She held in her hand a clipboard. She began to write as soon as she sat down paying no heed to the Joker rocking from side to side on the floor.

"Joker?"

"Let _me_ ask a question doctor."

Taken aback at the sudden statement she glanced up at him. He was ever curious about her work, often testing it against his nature. He wanted to see what society had against a man such as himself. She humored this as she recorded everything he did onto her clipboard. She was curious, she was fascinated…probably soaking in her panties, he thought with an inward smirk.

"Go ahead, but do you mind if I take notes?"

"No, of course not **haarghlee**," he garbled out his as he put his head against the wall and arched the rest of his body in a way he knew she would appreciate, "**anything**."

Did she like that? Yes…he could see her knuckles whitening as she clutched her pen more tightly in her hands. He briefly wondered what made the Batman quiver. The man was stoic, pure in all sense of the word. What would it take to sully a man such as that? A lot more than it would this woman, he thought wryly.

"I wan**t**…Harley I want to know what you **expect-uh** from this **relationsssship**."

She uncrossed her legs and rested the clipboard on her thighs. She was looking at him and for a moment he held an image of her cut and oozing red red blood all over the stark white floors. He wanted a knife so he could cut into her, get a laugh. He closed his eyes for a moment and chided himself for going off to fantasy land. He had to remember that these things would come in time, that she would be bleeding for him soon enough, and he would have Batman.

"I am not here for myself, I'm-"

"You **fuck **yourself yet?"

"Excuse me?"

"Stop **pretending,** I know why you uh… had to rest the clipboard down. **You know it and ah, I know it**," he mocked darkly.

"I don't know what you're-"

"**DON'T HIDE FROM ME**!"

Harley gasped, and flinched making the metal legs of the chair scrape against the padded floor with a dull sickening huff. He grinned widely…he _liked _that. He licked his lips sloppily and gazed at her with hungry eyes waiting for her to try and compose herself. Operative word being try, he thought to himself as he cracked a wide tooth showing grin.

"I think we're done for the day," she said making to get up out of her chair.

"You're not going to leave me here all alone are you Harley," he asked his lips puckered into a sickening parody of a child's pout.

She looked at him half out of her seat. "Are you ready to take things seriously?"

He tilted his head as if to say 'Are you kidding'

"Right, well I as I've said it's time for me to go."

"**SIT DOWN HARLEY!**"

She sat down her eyes wide with fear. The clipboard fell from her hands onto the padded floor. It was about time the stupid bitch listened. It would have happened faster if he had had a knife, but one had to work with what was given, and Joker rarely required much o cause mayhem.

"Now listen Harley-girl I uh-know what you do at night. I know because your eyes give you away ki**d**. You're ah, wet."

"Joker I am your doctor and if you feel that you're having trouble-"

"The only trouble errr, **Doctor **is the fact that you aren't strong enough, not without _meee_."

"And- and why do you believe that, "she whispered softly.

"Well, if you want to find out **come closer**," he snarled as he traced his tongue over his scars. He noticed that her eyes were glued to his tongue.

She shakily got to her feet and went to him. A flash of annoyance went through him as she approached. The Bat would have resisted for much longer, he would never have given into his tricks. He bit his lower lip until blood trickled down his chin. The pain helped him concentrate on the bigger picture. First he would overcome this insipid woman and then move onto Batman.

She knelt in front of him her eyes nervous and darting across his face. Though he was restrained he managed to get to his knees. His eyes were lidded giving him a sleepy look, but his tongue worked furiously, poking his cheek and accentuating his scars.

Finally he spoke.

"Dr. Q?"

"Yes," she breathed her breasts rising and falling heavily as she grew more excited.

"Hmmm…uh…now our session is over," and with that the Joker began to laugh hysterically. He rocked back and forth letting the laughter rip through him. And then she grabbed his face desperately with her hands.

He looked at her the way she was pleading with her big ocean blue eyes. She was disgusting. She was beautiful but so easily broken, a cheap dollar store gag that wasn't at all funny.

"You're too weak."

"Please."

"And…you're begging now? **SIT DOWN NOW!**"

Her knees crumpled beneath her and her eyes were tearing. He looked her over, from ponytail to black pumps. He could tell that she ached for his approval despite how professional she was trying to appear. He leaned into her until he was resting his chin on her shoulder. His tongue traced its way up her neck and to her ear. He heard the sharp intake of breath and pulled away.

"**Our session is over Harley girl**," he whispered as his voiced dipped into a lower octave.

"Yes."


	6. Chapter 6: Shaken Routine

I DONT OWNZ THE BATMAN CREW...Thats Chris Nolan and DC Comics.

It had all started with that confrontation several weeks ago, Harleen remembered. She knew that who she was becoming was not the same woman who had entered Arkham. She found that when she passed a mirror, she was not looking at a psychiatrist, but a poorly drawn caricature. It was her day off, but she longed to be at Arkham, alone with the Joker. Having a day off was not something that Harleen had ever really looked forward to, even before him. She did not have many friends, forsaking them for a quicker route through college. She did like to swim and was quite good at gymnastics but they were really exercises that she went through to relieve her mind from the emptiness in her life. It was Saturday and though she could not honestly call herself Harleen that is who she checked in as as she entered the gym.

Routine, always her life had consisted of concise measured steps. There was no interrruption in any course of Harleen's life that could not be properly categorized, filed, and put away. Her family was a strict one of old Catholic origin and she was brought up to be mannerly and rule abiding. As she deftly hoisted up another weight she realized that this woman, Harleen Quinzel, was not going to be going by the book much longer.

After another repition she retired to an empty aerobic room and began arranging the mats. She came here every Saturday and sometimes the staff would stay to watch her routine. Today, however, most of them had other things that required their expertise and she was left to her own devices. She did a a forawrd roll, sprung onto her hands and did a handstand. She twirled onto one hand and then held it out maintaining her balance. A few moments and she lowered one leg downand the other, a slow cartwheel, a backward roll, backflip one handed, running faster now...a giggle? She was sweating and almost stumbled as another giggle escaped her lips. She fell onto her butt and found herself nearly going hysterical with laughter. Her hand, still clinging to the desires of a more rational woman, clapped over her mouth. She breathed deeply and closed her eyes as let herself lay down on the mat.

And then she let loose another hysterical laugh that absolutely terrified her.

The grocery store, a perfect place to be civil, Harlee-Harley thought. She reached for a cart and pushed it inside. Tan and orange was the theme of the store and she found that it comforted her. Perhaps, heading here had been a good idea. After the incident she had gone to the locker rooms, taken her shower, changed and sat in her car. She made no motion to start said car but instead replayed the moment in the aerobics room over and over in her head. What had been so goddamn funny? She wondered where the sound had come from and when had she ever laughed that way. She shivered as she thought of one particular moment when she had giggled like that. She had waited until awhile sitting their in her chair eyeing him. She wanted to know so badly what made him do what he did. How did he escape reality but snap back to it so easily? He was a god in her small world, completely in control but at the same time reckless and unbound. She wanted to taste freedom like that. That day's conversation had revolved around control. What did it mean to him? Why chaos? What did he have to gain from all the destruction he caused? He licked his lips slowly as she tossed questions his way.

"**_Chaossss,_uh,**let's see...I love it. I want the **world-uh** to see everything as it..._really_ is." He bit his lip lightly and glanced up at her, his grey eyes catching her blue ones. Unspoken words passed between them and she could not help but try to put back away the sessions of before. She had to try to hold onto herself before she became like him.

_But what if being like wasn't so bad?_

_What if she liked it?_

"And what is chaos, to you?" He grinned widely knowing that she was trying to forget the previous session, trying to forget how close she had become to letting everthing go. Looking into his eyes she felt as if she were being hunted, as if she were stumbling around in some dark place with no hope of finding the lights. He chuckled lightly his whole body tensing and releasing under the straightjacket like a spring.

"What is **chaos** to me? Let me think about that..." He swayed from side to side, a snake dancing to hypnotize its prey. "Chaos is freedom. To do, say, think, as **_you_** see fi**_t_**. Don't you want that Harley-girl?"

She did want it. She did want freedom and the way he promised it to her;could it be real?

"Come on Harley what's going on in that...uh hea**_d-ah _**yours?"

"Tell me...do you like..." Her palms were sweaty and her thighs were even more so. Her whole body felt like a molten syrup. She wanted to know so badly what it was like to be wild, to have a feeling like that run through you, to be able to have...him. She pulled her hair tie off and let blond curls swing loosely against her shoulders. She removed the labcoat one button at a time. The gentle silken blouse that bespoke of quiet composure was quietly pulled over her head, revealing pert breasts hidden in a cotton white bra. She glanced up to see if he was watching her, watching her body. He was;in his way. His eyes so cold, offering no warmth; was fixed intently on her own. She trailed light nervous fingers over the buttons of her skirt and heard him gorwl hungrily. A wide grin graced her lips as she danced seductively out of her skirt; panties, skirt and bra followed suit. She walked over to him staring him in the eye as she undid his straightjacket.

"Show me, show me everything."

And he did.

He crooked a finger and beckoned her to lean in. He licked her, in that _same spot_. He let a languid tongue caress her neck slowly inching ever closer to her collarbone. She said letting her head lean back of its own accord. He stiffened at her sudden change. It seemed he did not like her relaxed. He shoved her roughly to the ground. She briefly wondered how he had gotten this strong, when it had happened. Her head fell against the padded floor with a soft thump but it had not lessened his intent. He grabbed her by the throat squeezing painfully until she could hardly breathe and feel the jagged edges of his nails digging into her. Then he kissed her. Soft, yet dry lips pressed harshly against her own. She opened her mouth in surprise and he took the opportunity to invade her mouth with his tongue. She gurgled trying to take in more breaths but he only squeezed tighter as he brought his knee up in between her legs. Her eyes rolled into the back of her head partly from hair deprivation and partly because of the pleasure that was shooting into her. Finally he released her throat and began nipping and licking down her collarbone.

"Joker,"she whispered as laved his tongue under her collarbone.

He rose up and looked down at her. SMACK. Her face whipped to the side and instant pain enveloped the entire left side of her face. A tear rolled down. He took her heart shaped face in his hands and turned her to face him. She nodded, understanding what he wanted from her. He let wandering scarred lips bump and slide to her stomache. She whimpered softly but kept her mouth closed. She blushed because she could already feel that she was incredibly wet;she had been since she walked into the room and heard his voice. She felt scarred lips caress her and she bucked into his mouth. He pinched her hip hard making her breath catch in her throat.

God, his tongue! She wasn't quite sure how tongue could do what his was doing, and that thing with his teeth butshe relished the feeling of his tongue probing inside her. She couldn't help but let her hands thread through his hair silently begging for release. Upon the intimate contact the Joker froze. She tugged harder expecting him to resume his ministrations but instead he got onto his knees and looked aown at her. His hand resumed its position around her throat;he leaned in real close so that she could hear him whisper.

"You don't make _any_ fuckin' moves,uh, got i_t_;not unless I tell you."

"Yes...yes, Mister J."

"Better."

She watched him stand up to remove his jumpsuit, and she watched as her hands went to finger herself. He eyed her coldly but continued to drag the zipper down. She blushed at the harsh look but continued to pump two fingers into herself. She watched as a lithe and evenly muscled frame revealed itself to her. The way he stood, as if he were leaning back, made abs seem more defined. She licked her lips letting loose a moan as she hit her sweet spot. God, how she wanted him. She laid back down as he stalked over to her, her hand pumped faster and she could feel her heart trying to escape her ribs.

"Mistah J..."

He let on foot rub lightly over her left breast caressing the nipple in a teasing manner. She gasped as she inserted another finger into herself struggling to find osme release, but she knew she could find none, not until he took her.

The foot stepped down hard on her stomach until she cried out in pain, tears welled at the corner of her eyes.

"See what your,_ah_,probleeem is, that,_uh_,you're too easy Harley-girl! I mean come on!" A swift kick to her side but still she groaned from some modicum of pleasure. She found that despite his kicking her she still wanted more. She didn't care how she got it, but she knew she had to get it.

"I'm too-ughh-I'm easy...I know-uhhhh-but...I still want-"

He pressed his foot down on her pussy and rubbed. She froze and then began to shudder as he moved his foot up and down. She could hardly stop moaning, but this is what he did to her. He made her feel as if every nerve ending were on fire, as if her heart was too big for her chest, as if there weren't enough air in the room. He removed his foot and without thinking she reached out to grab it. He growled and kicked her hand away. "Get on your,_uh,_knees."

She rolled onto her stomach and then crawled up to him wrapping an arm around his leg. She looked into cold slate grey eyes that showed nothing, save for malice. He grinned widely and she found a small smile of her own forming. She let her hand trail upto his hips letting her eyes catch his. Could she...? He made no motion to stop her and so she took his half erect member into her hands. She had not been in many relationships, never really found a man who awoke any sort of real feeling in her, and so it took her some time to find a rhythm, but despite her irregular rhythm she found that he was whimpering, moaning, in her hands. She licked the tip of his cock; tentatively.

Pain, exploding past her eyes, making everything go black for a few seconds. She fell onto her back, clutching her face in agony, but he was not finished yet. He got onto his knees and grabbed her by the waist laughing hysterically as he did so.

"Fair,_uh_,warning this,ah, is gonna hur_t_." And then in one quick thrust he was inside of her, filling her. He was not gentle. He did not say any loving words like old boyfriends had. He bit her left breast harshly as he fucked her. He growled like a beast holding one of her arms above her head as he pulled out and pumped into her again. She felt as if her whole body were hurting but at the same time filled to the brim with pleasure. She wasn't sure if she should feel sickened, ugly...but oh, the things he...

SMACK.

"**You...stay here with me,understood**?"

She felt him pull out of her, whimpered at the loss. He stood dragging her up by her arm. She winced but moved with him, letting him throw her against the wall. He grabbed her by hair and bit her ear painfully. She whimpered and she could feel the scarred grin stretching across her flesh in a wicked caress. Lifting her legs to fit around his waist he let gravity and the wall impale her on his cock. She cried out at the penetration but he did not let up but instead moved faster inside her. Her head bumped against the padded wall constantly as he sought his release. She felt as if her body and her mind were connected ,both contending with this animal of a man.

"Oh, please, please Mister J!"

He fucked her mercilessly until er toes went numb, until her eyes went wide and unseeing, and all over her painful bruises that ached deliciously as he pumped into her. And ever the mantra,"Oh please, oh please, please, please, ple-"

He used a free hand to squeeze against her throat, again forcing his tongue into her mouth. Blacking out she could fell him explore her mouth, quickening his pace as he practically fucked her into the wall. And then she felt it...sudden wave of pleasure overriding everything, as he let go of her throat a hoarse cry escaped her lips. He pulled out and let her slide to the floor, cumming on her chest in thick spurts. She couldn't move, felt numb and tingly at the same time. She looked up at him through heavy eyes, she grinned, swiped a good amount of the white fluid from her chest and licked her finger closing her eyes as she did so.

"**Now Harley, how do you feel**."

"I want more."

She remembered him grinning before dragging her by her hair and beginning the whole mad process again.

Finally she turned the key in the ignition letting the car purr to life. She took the usual route home and got there at around five o clock. She lived in a decent part of town so she never really worried about burglars or murderers. She began to unpack the groceries and rested them on the stoop as she fumbled for her keys.

"Hey, you Harleen Quinn, right?"

Harleen whipped her head around seeing a man in a clown mask and a blue jumpsuit. Startled she dropped her purse and began to edge away from the door.

"No, girly look Joker sent me. He says now that he knows he can trust youse...there's some things ya gotta get done. Undastand?"

She smiled and retrieved her keys from the ground.

"Let's talk inside."

A/N Okay...so if you guys are expecting a Harley Quinn similar to the one from the bat comics...that will not happen. I plan on making Harley an increasingly unstable character...well not coocoo for cocoa puffs crazy...but just...hmm well it's kind of hard to explain. she just won't be as silly as you know her from the cartoon/comic. and sorry this chapter took so long...i made it a little lengthy as an apology.


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